in unconscious thought
Dreams that keep
Us awake at night
Tearing shoulder straps
Traps of deceit
In my reign
There is no God
There is no Heaven
With which to wash away
sorrows, anger, joy.
There is no redemption
No Earth to set my feet upon.
choke out the words
you want me to say.
I have none now.
some sembalance of how
I am meant to be,
being an art form,
in this forsaken
dream I have
remove all words,
dreams that I seek
while I forgive.
HUZZAH! To the corporate jackassery that blocked my shit a couple of weeks ago. F to the big, fat U!
Honestly, I didn’t do anything, but it’s working now. Obviously. I still can’t access Twitter, but at least I can write again!
Speaking of……more poetry is coming! I’ve been writing things out (gasp) long-hand! I’ll bring them with me tomorrow to post.
And….maybe I can even finish my erotica that I’d started when al this hit the fan? Or maybe because I just said that, the whole damned thing will crash/cock-block me out again. LMFAO.
Anyway, a brief update on life:
Mom is doing well at home, getting adjusted and such. It’s a trial, but life is chock full of trials. It’s so hard for us to imagine doing even the most mundane things without a left foot. Try it sometime…you’ll be amazed at how much you take your body for granted!
Michael got a JOB! HOORAY!!!! The first thing he said to me on Friday after work was, “Honey, it’s a dive bar. You’ll love it!”
Yeah, cuz that’s how I roll.
Little by little, we’re trying to get our collective shit together again. It’s been a difficult month (ie. I haven’t actually killed anyone yet), what with his son staying indefinitely for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: teenage boys eat. A lot. As in Everything.
Seriously. The whole “eating me out of house and home” thing. Totally spot-on.
Meanwhile, Michael & I are on the “we have no food leftover to eat ourselves” diet. So, at least my waistline is happy.
I’ve got more, but I’ll save it for later, and leave you with this.
Well, Mom’s being discharged from “the home” on Monday. I guess this is a good thing? We want to have her back at home, and are hoping that being in the environment which she is used to will be a better fit for her. She doesn’t belong there at “the home”. I call it that because I’m not sure what to call it. I’d say Rehabilitation Center, but to be honest, it’s an old folks home. And it’s straight creepy. When we visited on Sunday, it totally reeked of urine. Ugh. Not the place where I want my mother. I just hope we’re ready. Aw who am I kidding? I hope my Dad is ready. She’s adamant that I not be directly involved in her care, and that I continue to work, seeing as how I’m the only one in the family actually working right now. She’s made steps, huge steps towards recovery and learning her physical limitations, but I know this transition will be difficult. We are blessed, unfortunately, that my Dad is out of work right now, but that’s a whole other can of worms. I’m just thankful that he is available to care for her, and I will continue to help with time, food and love. Whatever I can do. This whole experience has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Sometimes I cry. When I least expect it. Over trivial things. But I know. I know that deep inside, that it is this: the stress, the worry, the fear. But we will survive. Because that’s how we roll.
Yeah. I think the title says it all. Sorry I’m not all verbose and creative with my title today. I kind of fell into this experiment while on the bus this morning because I couldn’t find my pen. Again. And I had line going through my head, so I tweeted them. I tagged them #buspoetry at first, but then I did it again while on a smoke break at work, and #buspoetry seemed like a lie, so I tagged it #tweethaiku. Not that I’m trying to write haikus necessarily. That one just worked out like that. Anyway, I think I’m going to keep doing this for a while. Well, at least today, I’m trying to limit my tweets to poetry, but I’m long-winded and have to bitch about work somewhere, so that might not be entirely it. Eventually, my poetic tweets are going to become something cohesive (I hope), or at a minimum, I’ll have something I can pull together for a social media meets poetry arts kind of thing? It could work. Maybe. And if it doesn’t, who cares? Only a few people probably even notice the random tweets anyway, and if I can bring a smile or a “hmmm” to someone’s day, then I’ve accomplished my good deed for the day. So, off to poetic tweeting!
Enjoy your day, lovelies. 🙂
Once again, I feel the need to pimp another indie novel, and she didn’t even have to ask for my pimpage assistance. Seriously, this one is awesome! I just finished it, like 3 minutes ago, and I am impressed. Also very glad this is a series, as now I need to know more, and miss the characters already! Okay, so mainly Joss and Dylan. Thanks for leaving me hanging, Susan! Y’all can tweet her here: http://twitter.com/susan_bischoff , and maybe she’ll hurry up and write more! 😉
Really though, I’ve spent the last two and a half work days just pretending to work, while I’ve been entirely sucked into this plot! And I thought I was too old for YA?!? Not so much. Channeling my inner teenager over here. So with out further ado, I present to you a glimpse into the first chapter. Hope you love it! I know I did!
Click the link for an excerpt. Later, lovelies!
Cover Art by Robin Ludwig